Just Friends
by TLX
Summary: Harry sorts his mail and his thoughts after breaking up with Ginny. Written as part of the 2015 Teachers' Lounge Holiday Exchange for AHighAndLonesomeSound by Bad Myrtle.


**The Daily Prophet, December 12th 2000**

 _From our special correspondent Carlotta Wishluck_

It seems that the Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One and Saviour of the Wizarding World will be alone for Christmas. Harry Potter and long-term girlfriend Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley have reportedly split, and sources tell us that this time it's permanent.

"Harry wants a girl who is there for him," our source – who asked not to be named, but who is a friend of the couple from their Hogwarts days – confided. "Now that Ginny's Quidditch career is taking off, her schedule is as busy as his. He needs more stability in his life."

An orphan from the age of one, brought up by unsympathetic Muggle relatives, and with his history in our world marked by his fight against Tom Riddle, it is understandable that Potter would want some sort of permanence in his life. His own burgeoning career as an Auror – fast-tracked through the training system with other young veterans of the war, Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom – is hardly conducive to a restful life. Peace and stability in his home life is what he needs, and it seems that Miss Weasley is no longer able to offer that.

Although the couple have reportedly parted on the best of terms, it appears likely that Potter is doomed to spend the festive season alone. Miss Weasley's family have long regarded Potter as an adopted member, but it might be too much to expect the former couple to spend Christmas together without fireworks ensuing. A complicating factor is that at least two of Miss Weasley's surviving five brothers are unhappy with the break-up, and likely to blame Potter entirely.

"Ron is Harry's best friend," our source confided. "Or he was. I'm not sure he can forgive Harry for dumping Ginny though. The plan was for happy ever after with Ron and Hermione sharing a joint wedding with Harry and Ginny. Harry's blown that idea out of the water, and Ron isn't happy."

(Readers will recall that Hermione Granger, the third member of the Golden Trio, is establishing herself as a force to be reckoned with in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The announcement of her engagement to Ronald Weasley is said by sources close to the couple to be imminent.)

George Weasley, now sole proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes since the tragic loss of his twin brother Frank in the Battle of Hogwarts, is also reported to be unhappy at the break-up. Devyn Lord, proprietor of Devyn's Dyve in Diagon Alley, where George Weasley is a frequent drinker, reports that he called Potter "a git who doesn't know a good thing when he has it in his hands" during a heavy drinking session at the club.

So it seems that our hero will be spending Christmas alone, though no doubt there are numerous young witches out there who might like to remedy that situation. Correspondence addressed to Mr Potter sent to this publication will of course be forwarded to him if you wish to extend an invitation to him to spend the festive season with you.

Perhaps there could still be romance in the air for the Chosen One in the New Year.

* * *

It was cold, and Harry turned up his collar and thrust his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he walked. He thought longingly of the thick travelling cloak hanging in the hall of his flat. Why had he left it behind? It was true that cloaks were unusual in Muggle London, but there were enough oddly dressed folk about that it would attract next to no attention. He grinned to himself at the thought of what Uncle Vernon would say about the Father Christmas hats, the long woolly scarves wound multiple times round the owners' necks, the slashed tee-shirts and jeans, and the multi-coloured and spiked hairdos he had seen during his walk. He liked Muggle London. It was nice to feel one of a crowd and not to stand out. It was great not to have people doing a double take when they saw him, and peering at his forehead hoping to see his scar. And even after nearly half his life in the wizarding world, he felt at home here.

He was not really sure where he was going. He had been walking for half an hour already, having exited the Tube at a random stop a little beyond the centre of the city. He just knew he wanted somewhere for a quiet evening on his own, somewhere he could relax and be himself without someone asking about Ginny, commiserating with him about Ginny, or trying to persuade him to change his mind about Ginny. He knew they had done the right thing in breaking up. Neither of them had the time or the energy for the relationship that the other needed. It still hurt like hell though. And that damned article in the Prophet had got one thing right at least: Christmas with the Weasleys was impossible under the circumstances. He felt more on his own than he had done for a very long time.

He imagined turning up on the Dursleys' doorstep on Christmas Eve.

"Hello, I've come for Christmas."

It might even be worth it to see the horrified look on Aunt Petunia's face and the vein in Uncle Vernon's forehead pulsing. Dudley, at least, might be happy to see him.

A burst of laughter attracted his attention, a door opened in front of him, and a middle-aged man with a briefcase and a bowler staggered out looking scandalised. The laughter sounded young and came from beyond him, inside what Harry saw was a pub called "The Turnip and Lantern". Behind the laughter he could hear the steady bass beat of some kind of music. It didn't sound much like the Weird Sisters. On impulse, Harry entered the door that the man had so recently exited, and pushed his way through to the bar.

The room was crowded, and the clientele was largely young and dressed in a manner which would horrify the Dursleys, and which had no doubt gone a long way to cause the scandalised expression on the face of the man with the briefcase and bowler. The jeans were tight and the skirts short, there were tee-shirts bearing the names of what Harry assumed were bands (although he thought that "Taking Back Sunday" and even "Simple Plan" might conceivably refer to political issues), and the tattoos and hairstyles were many and varied. A girl with bright pink hair and a wide smile made Harry think irresistibly of Tonks, and his stomach lurched. Memories were the last thing he wanted tonight.

The music had stopped briefly shortly after Harry's entrance, but now it began again, the beat shaking the floor. It came from the adjacent room and the crowd of young people surged in that direction, bearing Harry with it. Clutching his pint, he went along for the ride.

The band was young too. There were three boys on guitars and drums, all with skin tight black jeans and spiky hair. Two wore slightly grubby looking tee-shirts and the third was improbably clad in a velvet jacket with a row of fake medals pinned to it. There were two girls as well. The pink-haired girl, dressed very much like the boys, was playing another guitar, and the lead singer, a small girl with short dark purple hair, had a plaid skirt so short that it barely covered her bum, and a tight red sweater that looked like her granny (or Mrs Weasley) might have knitted it. The music was heavy on bass and had a rhythm that was almost irresistible, and Harry found himself jumping and jerking with the rest of the crowd. There wasn't room for anything more, but no one seemed to mind. Everyone seemed to be having a very good time, and rather to his surprise, Harry found that he was too. The set was a long one, and by the end of it Harry was hot and sweaty and happier than he had felt for a long time. He joined in the shouts and stamping of the crowd demanding just one more song, but the band laughingly shook their heads, put down their instruments and headed for the bar. Well, they had certainly earnt a drink. The crowd spread itself out a little between the bar and the room where the band had been playing, and Harry felt at least he had room to breathe now. Someone had put some money in the jukebox, and "I wish it could be Christmas every day" was blaring out loudly, half the crowd joining in. Wizzard. Harry grinned at the irony of it as he headed for the bar and another drink.

An hour and two more pints later, Harry found himself next to the purple-haired girl from the band joining with the rest of the remaining crowd in a loud and not very tuneful rendition of Mud's "Lonely this Christmas". Harry was just drunk enough not to see the irony in that, and sober enough to be pleasantly surprised when the girl slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi," she said. "Not seen you at any of our gigs before. Did you enjoy it?"

Harry stumbled through some sort of a reply, trying not to look too obviously at the way her tight jumper emphasised what lay beneath. It was clear she was not wearing a bra. She didn't seem to mind him looking.

"My name's Anna," she said. "What's yours?"

* * *

It was well past midnight when Harry got back to his flat, a piece of card ripped from a cigarette packet with Anna's phone number scribbled on it in his pocket. He gulped down a glass of water and fell into bed, still fully clothed.

He barely made it into work on time and Ron regarded him with a sympathetic grin as he sank into his chair.

"Heavy night?" he enquired. "Hang on a mo." He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a small bottle of muddy brown potion in his hand.

"Charlie's hangover cure," he said. "I like to keep some handy for emergencies. You look like an emergency this morning."

"Thanks," Harry muttered and choked down the vile-tasting potion in one swig. It might taste horrible, but it was effective. He felt better within minutes. He shook his head and opened the file on his desk, trying to think about work and forget about Anna and how soft her body had been pressed into his, and how sweet her kisses had tasted.

Ron regarded him over the top of the file he was reading.

"Can I talk to you now?" he asked. "I didn't like to try before in case you opened your mouth to reply and threw up all over me."

Harry nodded.

"Sorry," he said. "Guess I drank more than I meant to last night."

Ron looked at him with a worried expression.

"Drowning your sorrows?" he asked.

Harry considered. That had certainly been a large part of his intention when he went out, but it hadn't happened like that.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "I actually had fun."

Ron half-frowned and Harry wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. Ginny's brother, however good a friend he was, was probably not the person to tell he had had a good time without her so soon after their split. He was certainly not the person to tell he had had a good time with another girl so soon after their split. Harry resolved to keep Anna to himself.

"There's – a bit – of post for you," Ron said, nodding to a huge sack in the corner.

Harry gaped at him.

"What the hell?"

Ron was laughing at him now.

"Forwarded from the Prophet," he said, slightly maliciously. "Lots of choice of where you can spend Christmas in there, if you're not coming to The Burrow. There might be one from Romilda Vane in there if you're lucky."

Harry opened his mouth to say something rude, but was stopped by the door opening and their boss entering, a sheaf of parchment in her hand and a worried expression on her face.

"I've a job for you two," she barked. "You'll have to deal with your fan mail later, Potter."

* * *

It was past eight o'clock when Harry and Ron got back to the office after a long, boring and fruitless day on surveillance duty. Ron disappeared to find Hermione, who was probably working late even this close to Christmas, leaving Harry to deal with his "fan mail". The piece of card with Anna's number was still in his pocket, and Harry held it like a talisman as he performed a quick spell to incinerate the sack.

"Err- Harry?"

Harry turned to see Neville in the doorway looking scandalised.

"Wh-what on earth are you doing?" he asked.

Harry grinned slightly sheepishly.

"Just getting rid of the results of the Prophet's latest," he confessed, and Neville laughed.

"Oh yeah, I saw that." He gestured towards the pile of ash on the floor and the slightly blackened curtains. You'd better clear that up though, hadn't you?"

Harry nodded, and waved his wand and muttered a spell. Then he turned back to Neville.

"What can I do for you, Nev?"

Neville shrugged. "It's more what I can do for you," he said. "If- if you're not going to Ron's for Christmas, and if you don't want to take a chance on one of those girls." He gestured to where the bag of post had stood. "A few of us are getting together at the Leaky on Christmas day. Private party. You know Hannah's working there now with old Tom? She's arranging it." For some reason, he coloured at the mention of Hannah.

Harry clutched the phone number in his pocket. He wondered what Anna was doing for Christmas.

"Who's going?" he asked warily.

"Oh, just the usual crowd, you know," Neville said. "Seamus, Dean. Padma and Parvati. Lavender might come, and Dennis Creevey said he'd come in the afternoon after lunch with his folks. A couple of the Claws too, I think. Terry's a definite, not sure about Anthony. Ernie and Susan are coming. Justin can't get away from his family, though he wants to. One or two are bringing families – my gran will be there, maybe Terry's folks too. Oh, and Luna's coming, with her dad."

Harry smiled. "Sounds a bit like a DA reunion," he said.

Neville nodded. "Well, yeah," he admitted. "But a lot of us haven't anywhere else to go. We're aiming to have fun, not to talk about the war."

Harry wondered if they'd manage that. But "a lot of us haven't anywhere else to go" sounded too much like himself to be entirely comfortable. The piece of card clutched in his hand felt hot.

"Um, can I let you know, Neville?" he asked. "Give me a day or two to think about it."

Neville shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Just let me know so I can tell Hannah."

Harry nodded.

"Thanks for asking, Neville."

* * *

There were three owls waiting impatiently on the kitchen window sill when Harry got home. Harry wondered how long they had been there, and whether his Muggle neighbours had noticed. He opened the window, and they crowded in, a large screech owl that looked vaguely familiar pushing its way to the front. Harry took the letter from its beak, and then turned to the others, a brown post office owl and a small snowy owl that reminded him with a pang of Hedwig. Perhaps it was time he had an owl again. He could buy himself one as a Christmas present.

He found some stale cheese in the fridge which he shared out among the owls. The screech owl turned up its beak at it, but the others took it happily enough, before taking off through the open window. Harry turned to his post. The first two were Christmas cards by the look of them, the third, a slightly screwed up piece of sky blue parchment.

A formal scene of a Christmas tree in front of a clock was signed "Percy and Audrey", and Harry realised he had missed something there in his preoccupation with his own relationship with Ginny. The second card showed a snowy woodland scene and wished him a "Joyeux Noel et Bonne Année from Fleur, Bill and Victoire". The postscript. meant more to Harry though. It was worth deciphering Bill's untidy scrawl to read, "Ignore the Prophet. You're one of the family, and always will be." That, coupled with Neville's invitation – which he was still fairly sure he would decline – made him feel he might still have a place in this world with or without Ginny.

He had no idea what the last piece of mail might be, and he opened the blue parchment with some trepidation. Had someone who had read the Prophet's article managed to get hold of his address? But when he opened it, amongst a burst of glitter, which sprayed out onto his jumper and all over the floor, and saw the signature, he found himself smiling. Luna. Of course. Who else would send blue parchment letters filled with glitter with the most staid and ordinary of post office owls? Luna had style all of her own. He found his smile widening as he read her note: "Hi Harry, hope you didn't let that rubbish in the Prophet upset you. You know the Quibbler is so much better! Could we meet up for a drink tomorrow? As friends. Luna."

 _As friends._ It took Harry a while to remember why that phrase sounded so familiar, and then he remembered another Christmas when Luna had been there for him. She was a good friend, one of the best. The owl had not stayed for a reply, and that confirmed Harry's thoughts about buying himself one. He would send Luna a reply first thing in the morning with one of the Ministry owls. He might even suggest they meet early enough for her to help him choose and buy a new owl.

He headed for the shower, emptying his pockets as he threw his jeans in the general direction of the laundry basket. He held the piece of card with Anna's number on for a long time, looking at it. Then he sighed, picked up his wand and incinerated it as he had done the unwanted mail at the Ministry. She was a nice girl, a lovely girl, and they had had fun together, but she was not part of his world.

This world, with Ron's friendship, the Weasleys as family, and invitations to spend time with old friends was where he belonged. He would start by going out with Luna to buy an owl. They would talk and laugh and go to eat somewhere, and she would be as she always had been, because Luna was like that. _Just friends?_ Well, that was enough for him right now. If the future held more for him, with Luna or with someone else, so be it. Right now, _just friends_ was a good place to start rebuilding.


End file.
